Page 13 of Untamed

Maybe it's the stick up his ass.

I laugh in Ilian's face. "I thought you had this luna ceremony bullshit?"

"We're not going all the way, Inuit," Penny says, exasperated.

I fight to keep the grimace off my face. "Oh."

"Aw, jealous?" Ilian teases me.

I nod. "Yes," I admit. I run a hand down my face. My wolf is pacing; urgent rumbles of discontent vibrate in my bones. My jaw aches from repressing the constant need to rip something apart.

All of the laughter stops. Ilian looks at me steadily for what feels like a full minute before he nods as if he's made a decision. "Penny mentioned that you've been talking about your mate a lot lately. Tradition in KilClaw says that it's a sign that you'll meet her soon."

I full-on shudder. We have packs coming in, possible allies visiting. All from the east and south. I hate to sound like an arrogant jerk, but I don't want one of those females. From what little contact I've had with them, they seem even more shallow than some RustClaw females.

"Goddess," I mutter.

---

Willa

Every muscle is sore, and my paws are screaming in agony. I'm bleeding as I limp to the stream, stepping in with all four paws to cool them and stem the blood leaking from the soft pads.

I ran soerratically; careless, uneven, without direction.

My she-wolf nips my mind. I flinch, panting, and lie down in the stream on my belly. She doesn't like my playing around with words. There's no time for games. The instinctive concern is the blood we've left on the trail during our panicked flight. There are predators in this forest, ones I know about and ones I don't.

Those make me more afraid.

The words my Father spoke run through my mind. He gave me to a male. He was going to make me leave. Will that old male be searching for me?

I lift my left front paw out of the water and start to lick it clean. It's the worst injury, a deep slice on the largest pad. It's still slowly leaking, and I know I can't leave the stream until it stops.

Shivers wrack my body. I need to shift back to feet, but I have nothing to wear, nothing on my feet, to protect myself when I shift back.

But my paw... I mean my hand... if I shift back to feet, I can better protect the cut on my hand.

I don't want to go back to the cabin. I don't want to see Mama lying there...dead.

A soft sob wracks my body. Shaking, whimpers clawing their way out of my body, I crawl from the stream and into the brush and leaf litter on the ground. The dried leaves and weeds become soaking wet quickly.

I don't feel good. My head is pounding, and I'm feeling a little dizzy. The cold seeps through my fur, and I don't want to shift. I'm too cold. And... I'm just so tired.

My she-wolf snarls, low in my head. It makes my body jerk, the feeling of her presence foreign and yet fitting, all at once.

I'mdiscombobulated; confused, shaken, addled.

My she-wolf snaps at me, and without any warning, my body starts to jerk and twitch as muscle and bone shift back. I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest, and cry silently, sniffling into my hair and skin to muffle any noise seeping out. It hurts to shift, just like Mama told me.

One thought invades my mind; danger. Danger, danger, danger. It becomes a chant in my head, keeping time with my racing heartbeat. Danger, danger, danger.

I need to go home. I get to my feet, staggering on weak legs. Looking around, I try to get my bearings. I'm still so cold, but I'm able to force my legs into walking. I'm only a few miles from the cabin. I'll be home soon.

I smell the acrid scent of smoke after just a few faltering steps. Dread floods me.Fire.

The horror I feel burns through my limbs, chasing away the cold, numb feeling. My bare feet fly over the ground, chasing the scent of disaster.

My home is burning. The lean-to in the back of the cabin is engulfed with flames. The scent of meat burning mixes with the smell of woodfire. I rush to the front door, but the thick, black smoke that billows out makes me hesitate.

---